One morning Thorstein rose with the sun, and went up on the hill.
He saw where Steinar's cattle were.
Then went Thorstein out on the moor till he came to the cattle.
There stands a wood-clad rock by Hafs-brook:
upon this Thrand was lying asleep, having put off his shoes.
Thorstein mounted the rock: he had in his hand a small axe, and no other weapon.
With the shaft of the axe he poked Thrand, and bade him wake.
Up he jumped swiftly and suddenly, gripped his axe with both hands and raised it aloft,
and asked Thorstein what he wanted.
He replied, 'I wish to tell you that this land is mine;
yours is the pasture beyond the brook.
 It is no wonder if you do not yet know the landmarks here.'
Said Thrand,
'It makes no odds to me who owns the land:
I shall let the cattle be where they please.'
"Tis likely,' said Thorstein,
'that I shall wish myself, and not Steinar's thralls, to rule my own land.'
Said Thrand,
'You are a far more foolish man, Thorstein, than I judged you to be,
if you will take night-quarters under my axe, and for this risk your honours.
Methinks, from what I see, I have twice your strength; nor lack I courage:
better weaponed am I also than you.'
Thorstein replied:
'That risk I shall run, if you do not as I say about the pasture.
I hope that our good fortune may differ much, as does the justice of our cause.'
Thrand said:
'Now shall you see, Thorstein, whether I at all fear your threats.'
And with that Thrand sat down and tied on his shoe.
But Thorstein raised his axe swiftly, and smote on Thrand's neck so that his head fell forward on his breast. Then Thorstein heaped some stones over him and covered his body, which done, he went home to Borg.